


3AM

by Mersheeple



Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Prompts [36]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Memories, Off Screen Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25493314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: It was always 3am...that's when it always started. The screaming.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Prompts [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805746
Comments: 17
Kudos: 45





	3AM

**Author's Note:**

  * For [multilingualism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/multilingualism/gifts).



> The prompt: 3am.
> 
> Thank you lovely for such an open ended prompt...

She was screaming again. Every night at the same time she would start screaming, thrashing around in her bed, whining, and begging for a reprieve from some unseen assailant. Of course, he knew who it was that she dreamed of each night.

It was Bellatrix Lestrange, torturing her at Malfoy Manor. He had been there the night it had happened, the night her arm had been permanently disfigured. Of course he would remember her screams. They haunted him, as they seemed to haunt her. He flicked his gaze to the clock over the mantle. 3am. It was always the same.

He took a sip from his glass of Firewhiskey, finishing it up as the screams began to dissipate. In no more than ten seconds he would hear…

_Creeeeaaaak…_

There she was, regular as clockwork, getting out of bed. Shuffling to the back of the bedroom door to slip on her ratty old pink dressing gown. She would tie it tight around her waist, covering as much skin as she could before slipping her feet into comfy slippers and then…

_Creeeaaaak…_

Her bedroom door opened and she walked slowly into the room, shuffling nervously. He gave her a soft smile as she walked to the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a measure of the potent amber drink he favoured. She lifted it to her lips and took the tiniest sip, attempting to hide the shiver as it burned her throat. She sat softly on the sofa opposite and shakily gave him a smile.

“Can’t sleep?” Another part of their ritual, though it seemed pointless. The answer was obvious but it was an essential part of their night, nonetheless.

“Nightmares.” She whispered softly, her voice croaking with the echo of her screams. He sighed, nodding softly as she took another sip.

“Want to talk about it?” He knew the answer would be no, it always was.

“Do you think it would help? Maybe get it all out of my head for once?” He was startled. She always said no.

“Maybe? I don’t know Hermione. It can’t hurt.” She smiled sadly at him and nodded.

“There’s two. They sort of…merge into one another. The first one, the most common one, is actually the easiest. We’re at Malfoy Manor again, and she has the knife and she’s cutting into me and I’m bleeding and she’s using Crucio on me and then the chandelier falls but she is too quick and pushes me underneath it and I get crushed and then she is torturing you and Ron and…oh Harry, I’m under that chandelier, pinned to the floor, still screaming in pain and feeling every moment of horror as she calls him to us and then you die and Ron dies and…” The tears threatened to choke her and he moved to reach out to pat her hand. He pulled his hand back and shushed her as she wept.

“And the second one?” Harry’s voice was quiet but she heard him anyway. She wiped her eyes and her nose on the sleeve of her dressing gown and nodded, silently, steeling herself against his censure.

“We’re in the boathouse and we’re watching him and then the snake and…oh God, oh Merlin there’s so much blood and Snape is dying and then he is looking at you and giving you his memories and we go to the battle and we just _leave_ him there and then I go back after the end and he’s just dead and there’s nothing left and I’m screaming at him to wake up, please wake up, but it’s over and he is gone and…” A heavy sob shook her body and she folded in on herself, sobbing and shuddering on the sofa as he looked on. She reached for her glass of Firewhiskey and hurled it into the unlit fireplace, screaming and keening as if she were in pain.

A heavy arm wrapped around her shoulders and she sobbed, folding herself into the body squatting beside her chair. She sobbed into his neck, her head resting on his shoulder as he wrapped himself around her, stroking her hair and calming her.

She pulled away and stared at him, rubbing her eyes and blinking. He lifted one arched eyebrow and gave her a half smile.

“Talking to Potter again, little love?” There was no censure in his voice, no ire in his gaze. Just a calm and understanding note.

“Oh Severus, why did he have to die? Why couldn’t you both have lived?” Hermione felt her bottom lip wobble and she bit into it, clamping her teeth down with a sting of pain. He raised his thumb to her lips, pulling her bottom lip from its second home between her teeth. He had to lean forward then, kissing her lips softly and making her sigh against him.

“He chose to let me come back Hermione. He was given the choice and he chose me. I will forever be grateful to Mr Potter for letting me find you, for letting me love you. Without his sacrifice I would never have been given this second chance. Hermione, I love you. Come to bed sweetheart. It’s 3am and we need to sleep. We’re getting married in the morning love.”

Hermione looked at the carriage clock on the mantle and smiled softly. It was 3 am. It was always 3am.


End file.
